Momma Gone

By Nina Foxx

Momma set me on the jukebox. So begins the personal story of Denise (Sweetie) Wooten, set between a post-civil rights era New York City and a growing, but stale rural Alabama. We are thrust in the midst of a family longing for normalcy, but instead struggling with illness and all that comes with it; denial, anger and misunderstanding and love. As cultures clash, we see the family through a child s eyes and walk with her as she makes sense of war fought far away, but with effects close to home, and a tragedy that changes her life forever. More truth than not, Momma: Gone is a story of survival, where all the lessons are taught by the child who must eventually lead them through and a classic American story of overcoming life s misfortunes to find the bloom on the other side. -Shortlisted for a Doctorow Award in Innovative Fiction

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brown Girls Publishing
• Release date: Jul 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9780991532292

Nina Foxx

Nina Foxx, originally from New York, is the bestselling author of five novels--and two industrial design patents. She has had a short story featured in Wanderlust: Erotic Travel Tales, and her fourth novel, Marrying Up, was successfully adapted into a musical stage play. She worked as an industrial psychologist specializing in human-computer interaction, and is currently completing a third graduate degree--this time an MFA in creative writing—and working on an experimental film project based on one of her books.

Book preview

Author

One

Momma put me up on the jukebox. I could see everything from there, even all the people in the room.

Sweetie is my little lady, she said. She steadied herself with one hand and pushed away from the bar with the other. Her skin was fair and the bluish veins showed through like she was much older than her thirty years. They all turned and looked and smiled at us with that plastered-on, woozy kind of smile. The smell that goes along with men in bars followed their heads as they turned and I could smell it, strong, leaping out at me. I heard Gramma call this preserved-in-alcohol. I smiled because I knew I was supposed to, but I was a little scared. Butterflies swam in my stomach and I bounced my legs off the jukebox to help calm them down.

From where I was sitting, I could see over the top of everyone in the room. Momma and I were the only two ladies here. I guess the other ladies didn’t need medicine, only men and Momma. Momma said that other ladies took their medicine at home, but Daddy didn’t let her have hers there, so we went to get it. Sometimes, just like now, she took me with her. I really didn’t understand it all; medicine is supposed to make you better, but Momma seemed to get sicker and sicker after she had it.

Freda Payne was singing Bring the Boys Home.

Everyone had forgotten about me.

Turn it up, Jeffrey. Turn it up. Momma closed her eyes slowly and opened them again. Her head moved to something deeper than just the rhythm of the song.

Bring ‘em back alive! Freda said.

Whenever I heard this song I wondered who she was talking about. Momma liked it and she played it over and over at home. She played it so much and danced and cried out for June-Bug till Daddy threw the record player in the yard. I was sad when he did that; I couldn’t play my Muffin Man song anymore. We tried to make the record player work again, but it was no good trying; it just wouldn’t go. Daddy apologized to Momma and when I asked him why he did it, he said because that song made Momma sad and he couldn’t stand to see her cry. Maybe that was why I didn’t get beat like other kids on our block; I cried as soon as I got in trouble, so Daddy just left me alone.

I didn’t know where June-Bug had gone, but I sure wished he would come back. They said he went someplace to fight folks. Momma and Freda wanted him back like I did.

How come he can fight and I can’t? I asked the same question over and over but I never got an answer. It was almost like they thought I didn’t understand how things worked, but I did. More than they wanted to say.

June-Bug was the best big brother a little sister could have. He bought me ice cream and took me everywhere he went, even to see karate movies. He had an Afro and people called him Red because he was the color of the Alabama Red dirt that Auntie called bay-bay dirt. She baked it in the ovens sometimes and ate it, too. I liked when she did stuff like that; folks in New York never baked no dirt, but folks in Alabama ain’t ever seen too many folks like June-Bug neither.

I wanted an Afro like June-Bug but Momma said no Afro for me. We tried it in secret one time, but my hair wouldn’t stand up. To tell the truth, his didn’t stand up either, not really. His ‘fro was always sort of flat on one side, but that was okay with me, he still looked cool.

Elva, can that sweetie pie of yours dance?

One man hollered at Momma although he didn’t have to. He was standing right by her and the music wasn’t really that loud. The fat man kept wiping the bar and Momma laughed. She put me on the floor at the same time.

Dance, baby. You show ‘em your stuff.

She almost spilled her drink on me and I felt sorta trapped with all the big smelly people around me, but I danced anyway. When Freda said to turn the ships around, I did one of my best spins I could. I put myself far away; I imagined I was a ballerina like on TV, but with more soul. I twirled and bopped as best I could, halfway listening to the music. I wanted to take dancing lessons but Momma said I was too young. I asked Daddy if I could and he said he didn’t want no buck-dancing niggers in his house; he said I needed to concentrate on learning to read and write so I could make something of myself. I asked Gramma what buck dancing was. She told me to get away and to go play before she got her switch. Grown-ups were so confusing. I heard her ask Momma what they were teaching me up in the north.

Freda was finished now, and I stopped dancing and looked at Momma. Some man started to sing about loving somebody being wrong and he don’t want to be right. I didn’t understand that either because whenever I called Gramma she was always telling me to make sure I do right. This man was singing about doing wrong and everybody was singing along with him.

The song was over and everybody went back to smiling and grinning at me. The man with one leg behind the bar gave me a soda. I looked at Momma and she nodded to me that it was okay to take it. He popped the top for me with his can opener and I drank it directly from the can. It fizzled as it went down and I thought about the burn in my throat and followed it down to my tummy.

Say, thank you, sweetie, Momma said. One piece of her hair had fallen into her face. She pushed it away.

She always called me Sweetie. I think some folks thought my name was Sweetie, but it wasn’t. My name is Monica Denise Wooten. I am seven years old and I am going to start second grade in school.

I said thanks to the man in my small voice and Momma took my hand in her real soft one with the thin skin. He gave me a nickel and smiled at me with a wide-open grin. I could see that he was missing teeth, too. I looked behind the bar now and I stood behind Momma’s leg and took a peek around her skirt. It scared me and was exciting all at the same time because I knew the man only had one leg. The other leg was a peg. Every time I asked, Momma said that Sugar took his leg.

I wondered who Sugar was and I also wanted to know why she needed an extra leg. They always laughed at me when I said that. Momma told me to remember not to ask Daddy that question. I guess I would have to explain to him why I was in a bar taking soda and money from a man with one leg and missing teeth.

It was bright outside and I blinked when we stepped into the light. I didn’t know why they didn’t turn on more lights in that place anyway.

It was kinda early and I knew we were going home now so Momma could go to sleep. She came home from work at the hospital in the morning before Daddy left for work. Momma is a nurse and she takes care of crazy people. At least that’s what Daddy said.

We drove her to work at the hospital that locked its doors every night and she got a ride home with somebody else. We had to drive her there because somebody stole her car. It was a yellow car with stripes down the middle and my daddy gave it to her. She loved it even though it had a dent in the front from where the truck hit us. The truck really backed up onto us while we wasn’t moving, but Momma said it hit us so I said it, too.

Anyway, the police found the car later and we went to see it. It didn’t look like much of a car to me anymore. It didn’t have no wheels or doors left. I looked in what was left of the trunk to see if my Peppermint Twist was still there, but it was gone. I knew it would be. Any thief with sense would want it; it was such a great toy. My favorite. It had a ring on the end of a string, with a ball attached to the end. Mine was all purple and pink and yellow. You put your leg into the ring and swung the string around and jumped over it with the other leg. Too bad that it was gone because I had almost learned how to do it, almost as good as the big girls.

I only got my legs wrapped up in the cord occasionally. It felt so good to put the ring around my skinny leg and look down as I swung it around and around. I hopped over it with my other leg almost perfectly, almost every time. But it was gone now, just like June-Bug. Maybe Daddy would get me another one.

Two

I stood on the corner with Momma. Not really, I stood there and she just sort of hung from the fence by the back of her shirt, like she was trying to sit down in a chair, only there wasn’t no chair, her eyes half-closed and her mouth half-open. We stood, waiting for someone to come and help us get home because I was too short for Momma to lean on and she was too heavy for me to help her walk. I licked my lollipop and watched the people go by.

I wondered why they didn’t look at us. We had to look funny, a little girl with bouncy curls and a red lollipop, and a momma hanging on the fence, but no one turned their head to look as they passed by, they just went by, sneaking peeks at us out of the corner of their eyes. Their stares made my cheeks burn. I knew that we were not ordinary. I yearned for ordinary every day.

Momma had too much medicine, I guess. James helped us this far; I could see our house from here and I could see the neighbors in the windows, too. No one came out of their house to help, but I knew they saw us. Folks around here saw everything.

I thought Momma was sleeping. Drool came out of the right corner of her mouth and rolled down her chin. James got tired of helping Momma so he went to see if Daddy was home so he could come and get us. James was weak, I had never seen him eat food, only drink the same medicine that Momma did, but I figured everybody eats something sometimes.

Time moved in slow motion, with Momma drooling and hanging from the fence, and people walking by secretly watching but not helping. It felt like we had been waiting a long time. Once we got home, I knew Momma and Daddy would fight and Momma would end up crying and she’d finally shout Good-bye cruel world! like she always did. That’s the way it goes.

Every now and then she tried to get up off the fence, but her legs acted like jelly and they couldn’t hold her weight and she flopped down like my Raggedy Ann doll. If her shirt wasn’t caught on the fence she would’ve fallen on the ground.

Every time she woke up she asked, You here, sweetie pie? like she thought I might have gone somewhere. I knew that I had to stay with my momma no matter what. I didn’t know how to cross the street.

Finally, Daddy and James were coming. I could feel Daddy’s anger as he got closer. It rolled from his head and vibrated through the air like lightning rolls across the sky in the summer. Daddy stepped up and ran his hand through my hair but didn’t say a word. Instead, he picked Momma up and cradled her like a baby. James made a move to help like he could, and he stumbled. My daddy sucked his teeth and pushed him away but still, no one said a word.

Bye, Mr. James. I was the one to break the silence. I smiled at him and managed a very small wave. He didn’t say anything but instead he licked his mustache, then rolled it between his fingers. He watched me and Daddy and Momma as we went across the street and up the steps and into our house.

***

Momma was awake now and I knew they were going to fight. I made my way up the stairs and to my room, but no door was going to keep out the noise, not really. I didn’t even try to close it. At first, all I could hear was the bass in Daddy’s voice, and although he was calm, his calmness was really covering his anger. He was good at doing that; the more upset he got, the smaller his voice was.

I couldn’t hear the exact words, but I knew what they were saying; this wasn’t the first time. Daddy wanted Momma to stay out of the bar with the men and the jukebox. Momma didn’t think he understood. I could hear it before she said it.

Goodbye, cruel world! I could never tell exactly what she meant by this. Where was she going and why was the world so cruel?

Doors slammed and Momma stomped up the steps.

My little brother cried in the next room. He was very little and he cried all the time.

I listened from my room as Momma talked at Daddy who was still downstairs. She was crying now and I knew she was putting things in a bag.

The girl can stay with you! Whenever they fought she never called me Sweetie. Then, I was just the girl. Momma was sniffling and talking at the same time. It was always the same.

She likes you better anyway! I am taking my baby; you can’t have him.

Oh, Elva, be reasonable. Daddy was upstairs now and his voice was still calm.

I didn’t even flinch as I listened. We went through this drill all the time, she wouldn’t even say good-bye, I knew that. More stomping, more yelling, doors slamming; finally, I heard the car start up, Daddy’s car. My momma and brother were in it. If she really didn’t come back this time I would miss her, but not him. Never him. Seems like this all started when he came.

They weren’t going nowhere but to the park. She took us both one time; it kinda depended on how she felt. They were going to go and park and sit until the cops told them to move or she got tired and then they would come back. There would be no sounds and everyone would act like nothing had happened and we would all drive her to work once again. I could hear the clock ticking for a long time and I finally fell asleep somehow. No one came to talk to me like parents talked to kids on TV, to tell me that it would be all right. I wondered if they really thought I couldn’t hear them or that I didn’t understand. I understood more than they would ever know. My Gramma said I was an old soul.

Daddy shook me awake and I realized that things had happened just as I thought they would and it was time to take Momma to work. We all moved silently to the car and no one said a word. Daddy turned on the radio and Momma rolled down the windows. We sang along, and for a few minutes, things were as normal as they could be.

Three

It was my first day of school and I was excited; Momma bought me a new dress that made me look like a sailor girl. It was blue with a big, wide square collar. She ironed it for hours and the skirt swung when I twirled around.

Momma hadn’t had anything to drink in a long time because she was happy, but I knew that wouldn’t last long. I went with her to the doctor yesterday and he told her that it was back. She almost made it, too. They said if she made it five years she would make it all the way. Momma cried when the doctor told her the news. I cried, too, but I was crying because Momma was. It was never explained to me, but I could tell by how sad my Momma got that it was real bad, worse than ice cream without the soda.

This morning I was already awake; I could hear Momma coming up the stairs, and instead of getting up, I closed my eyes and squeezed them shut. I pretended to be asleep. If my eyes were closed I knew she would kiss me awake and I couldn’t wait to let her do it. I loved the smell of her hair as it flopped in my face during the kissing.

Wake up, my sleepy-head! Do you know what today is? Her voice was soft and I could tell without looking that she was smiling. I knew she could tell that I was really awake, but she enjoyed this wakey-wakey game we played as much as I did.

I kept my eyes closed even though I couldn’t keep a straight face and started to grin like the Cheshire cat.

Wakey, wakey, rise and shine! Her singsong voice almost made an echo in my small bedroom. There was no need for me to answer because she was as excited as I was. I smiled with her as she talked to me and told me about how smart I was and how much fun second grade was going to be. She didn’t need to reassure me, like on TV. I already knew I would like school. Momma helped me into my dress and fussed over me. She spent a long time ironing my no-iron dress and making sure my socks were frilly and matched just so. She even bought me a book bag, although I didn’t think you’d need such a big book bag for second grade.

The school wasn’t far, just up the block. I knew where it was and wanted to go by myself but Momma said she was going to take me anyway. I think she was more excited about going back to school than me, although I didn’t think that was possible.

The happiness ended when we went downstairs. Everyone was silent while we ate breakfast. June-Bug didn’t even fight me for my orange juice like he normally did. He came home from fighting folks three weeks ago. Everyone was glad about that around here; a lot of people that went to fight didn’t seem to come home at all and folks were walking around wearing bracelets with those people’s names on them, like that was going to bring them back. Momma told me that some of those folks were missing-in-action, like they just popped into somewhere else. Magic. Chills ran down my spine when she said that. She said they might even be prisoners-of-war.

I felt my stomach starting to get nervous as I played with my fried egg. I normally liked fried eggs, but this time the excitement of school and the silence in the room was squashing my hunger for food.

I think the doctor told Momma something real bad yesterday. She had been going to the doctor a lot and yesterday was one of those times. When she came home, she was crying and Daddy even came home from work early. He almost never did that. Even June-Bug cried. I don’t think I’d ever seen him do that before. They called Gramma down South and all of my Momma’s brothers and all of her sisters, too. No one told me anything and they all whispered in the phone for a long time. Hours.

I wasn’t supposed to know what was wrong, although I could tell that something was. Every time I came into the room, they all got silent like they were now and tried to hide their tears behind their fakey smiles. And then it was over, like it never happened.

Momma eventually started fussing again over me starting school and then stayed in her room the rest of the night. Even with all the strangeness in the house the past couple of days, I could not wait to get dressed up and to go to school like normal kids. The girl next door wouldn’t go until next year and she had been asking me every kind of question; she was sure that I knew everything because I was going to school and I had been answering every question. What I didn’t know the answer to, I made up. She wasn’t too smart because she believed everything I said. I made a game out of it just to see how far I could go.

All I heard in this room was the clink clink of silverware hitting the plates. My family was real good at trying to act normal when nothing was. You didn’t have to be able to predict the future to know a storm was coming. I just wondered if it would be today.

Four

School was fun. I liked it a lot. We played first day games and went to the library. We all had to pick a book and then write about it. My teacher read to us, too. She was young and nice and I thought I was going to like her a lot. Momma picked me up from school and I talked all the way home.

You should have been there, Momma. I read out loud in my best voice and the teacher made me read my assignment out loud in front of the whole class.

Momma seemed far away from the happiness she had this morning. Did she? she said. Her smile was thin and weak.

Yes, she said it was the best one, out of all of them.

Momma nodded and smiled, but there was a faraway look in her otherwise beautiful eyes. She didn’t speak or ask me any questions. She just listened. I could tell that she was still a little worried about whatever the doctor said.

We finally made it home and instead of asking me if I wanted to help her cook like she always did, Momma went to the kitchen by herself.

Don’t you want me to help you, Momma?

I was surprised that she hadn’t asked me so I figured she was preoccupied and I helped her out a little. She didn’t answer me and started to pull the pots out of the pot closet. Maybe we wouldn’t cook together anymore now that I was in school again. She even forgot to turn on the radio like normal. I did it for her but she didn’t seem to notice. If the radio wasn’t on, dinner wouldn’t taste good. That’s the way it worked. Our singing along with the music and acting silly added a little something special to every recipe.

I stood behind Momma just in case she needed my help while she cooked; she always said that my help made the food just right. She reached out and turned the knob on the stove but nothing happened. The stove just made that click-click sound it sometimes made when the eye had no intention of lighting. Sort of like it was making fun of us and sucking its teeth or something. I smelled the gas almost immediately.

Momma had to step around me because I was a little slow getting out of the way. She still had not said anything at all to me, it was like she was in some kind of trance or operating on automatic. She reached for a match from on top of the brown aluminum dish chest. They were up there so we couldn’t get them.

The matches were moved up high after I went to the kitchen one night to try and make a potion that was like Gramma’s brew. I mixed everything liquid in the refrigerator together to try and get the color right. It tasted horrible. It didn’t make any sense, it had looked like it should taste good.

In slow motion, Momma ran the match along the side of the dish cabinet and all at once, she paused as a flame hopped onto the end of the matchstick. The way matches light is magic. Flames just appeared at the end of a little stick.

Instead of holding the match to the eye of the stove to relight the pilot, Momma turned and stretched her slender arm up, toward the plastic kitchen curtains. She was so proud of those curtains when she put them up. I was frozen in place.

The little match flame transferred to the plastic curtains and I stood still, watching as the curtains were quickly taken over. They didn’t burn like